Second
by Linxcat
Summary: For most couples, the firsts are the most important. For them, it was the seconds that counted. FINISHED. THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR SUPPORT THROUGH THIS, ESPECIALLY MARISHKA91 FOR REVIEWING EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER! FEEL FREE TO PM ME ANY NEW TJ FICS!
1. Second Impressions

**Second Impressions**

His eyes drifted once more to the large screen above the doorway in front of him.

_Flight 227 to Moscow Airport: DELAY_

He sighed and slumped over again. Three hours it had said that; there were delays on the majority of the planes coming into Tokyo Airport because of bad weather. Here he was, bored out of his mind, waiting for a plane that would take him back to a place he didn't even want to return to.

Sure, Russia was his homeland, the place where he'd grown up, but that hardly meant anything anymore – it was also the place where he'd spent half of his childhood in fear and pain. He was not looking forward to going back, but…

Well, what else could he do? The Blitzkrieg Boys had disbanded since Spencer was too old to compete in the World Championships and Kai had wandered off to Japan again. Ian had left for America to find somewhere where his talents were appreciated and the last time he saw Bryan, he was taking day classes to get some qualifications and working nights at a local club. He himself, though, had no clue what he wanted to do with his life – beyblading was still important to him, yes, but the only careers involving the sport involved either children or science, neither of which particularly appealed to him. So back to Russia it was.

Exhaling deeply, Tala stood, ran a hand through his shock of red hair and shoved his hands in his pockets. Figuring he could do with stretching his legs, he sauntered past his fellow miserable passengers-in-waiting and went to get a coffee.

The hot drink warmed him from the inside, dispelling the cold and, if he was honest, slightly upsetting feeling of not quite knowing where he belonged. He sipped it twice then looked up and around for somewhere to sit in the crowded café.

His eyes scanned the tables once, dismissed the idea of sitting at his own table since there were none free, then latched onto something – someone. A girl, his age or perhaps younger, with shocking orange bangs that covered her face as she bent to read a magazine and dark brown hair that slipped over her shoulders and down her back. It was not her beauty that drew his gaze – indeed, he couldn't see her face to tell what she looked like – just the feeling of something oddly familiar about her.

A beyblader, a past opponent, although he couldn't for the life of him recall her name. Spanish girl, half of that European team that the Blitzkrieg Boys had beaten in the World Championships a few years back, what was her name, Jemima something? No, that wasn't Spanish…

Shrugging and figuring (hoping) the chances were that _she_'d remember _him_ anyway, he made his way over to her table.

"Is this seat taken?"

She looked up at once, emerald eyes startled and precautious, before recognition dawned in them and she shook her head, a slight smile coming to her face.

He sat down, placing his coffee carefully on the small circular table, "Julia, right?"

She nodded again, the smile coming easily to her lips. Tala hid his relief (he was a good guesser), "Tala of the Blitzkrieg Boys. How long as it been, three years?"

"Ugh, that long?" Tala pulled a face and she laughed. She seemed to be a rather cheerful person; Tala wondered if he'd picked the wrong person to sit with, but her exuberance was refreshing to his current rather pessimistic demeanour.

"How have you been?"

The customary conversation-starter took him by surprise, "Uh, alright I guess, you?"

"Not bad."

There was a brief silence where both parties avoided eye-contact.

"So, uh, we're in an airport…you must be going somewhere?"

"Nice one, captain obvious." He quipped, smirking. She glared at him and he laughed. Oh, he'd definitely picked the right person to sit with. She was cheerful, yes, but so easily wound up; teasing this girl would be a riot.

"Well, if you're going to be like that." she huffed, scowling and turning back to her magazine. He shook his head and slipped it out from underneath her fingers.

"No, no, what were you going to say? Something about…oh, I know! A plane?"

"Oh, ha ha," she grumbled, snatching her magazine back and bringing it up to cover her face.

Tala sniggered into his coffee and watched her over the rim of his mug; she was pointedly ignoring him but every now and then she would glance over in his direction, then quickly away again. Sitting at a table with someone and not talking to them seemed to be an alien concept to her. Talkative girl then, with a heap of pride and self-confidence.

"So, since we're both at an airport…you must be going somewhere too?"

Irritated by his mocking but looking slightly relieved, Julia placed the magazine down again, "Back to Spain to do some practise for our show next summer. Nobody really comes to the circus at this time of year, so I got some time off to go on holiday."

"On your own?"

"Sure, I can look after myself," she shrugged, then her face fell, "Well, Raul, my brother, was supposed to be coming too – we visit Japan every year – but the stupid _idiota _broke his leg the day before the flight, so he couldn't." her face softened slightly, "He insisted I went anyway, and we'd already booked the tickets. Where are you going?"

"To be honest, I don't really know."

Julia looked mildly alarmed, "You don't know…?"

Tala cursed himself inwardly. Idiot! What was he doing saying that sort of thing out loud? It had just kind of slipped out, and now she thought he was a mental case. Not that it was any different from what most people thought, but this girl was the first person he'd had a decent conversation with in ages. Not to mention that it would totally ruin the image he'd built of cold and stoic and pure coolness.

"I know where this _flight_ is going, I mean, but…"

"It's not where you _want _to go, and you don't know where it is that you_ do_ want to go?" Julia suggested.

Tala stared at her and she returned the look evenly. He dropped his gaze to his hands, a little embarrassed. He could deal with emotions – anger, irritation, jealously, and even fear were fairly customary to him, but anxiety? Confusion? What on earth was he supposed to do with them?

"Tell me about it." She said softly. He shook his head.

"I really don't think-"

"I've got at least three hours, Tala, if not more. I know from experience it makes things easier if you get them out in the open, I doubt you'll talk about it with your frosty old friends." She grinned at him, "Plus, I'm dead bored."

Tala rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, studying the last drops of coffee in his mug as he thought. He was an emotional person – there was no escaping that. He could hold it all inside and deal with it when he got to Russia, or he could talk to Julia and let things out now. She was practically a total stranger, so she could take an impartial view and she wouldn't judge him. Besides, he had hours to kill.

He raised a finger, "None of this leaves here, understand?"

"Cross my heart."

"If I find some crappy girly mag reporting how Tala the famous beyblader is secretly a big old softie – which I'm not! – I will come and hunt you down, personally."

"Ooh," Julia giggled, biting her lip and raising her eyebrows. Tala rolled his eyes.

"That was supposed to be threatening, not seductive, you know."

"Yeah, yeah." She leaned forwards towards him, pursing her lips and gazing intently at him, "Now spill, Ice Boy."

Tala steeled himself and ran a hand through his hair.

Well, it wasn't as if he was ever going to see her again, right?


	2. Second Kiss

**Second Kiss**

"This is ridiculous."

Julia removed the Jammie Dodger from her mouth and looked up at her companion in curiosity.

"What is?"

"This," Tala turned from making the coffee and gestured around with his hands. Julia frowned in confusion.

"Your kitchen? Sure, not the most tastefully decorated place I've ever been in but it's not _that_ bad…"

"Not the kitchen," he rolled his eyes, "This situation. Us."

Julia huffed, "Well, I'm sorry if I'm not _sensible_ enough company for you."

"What the hell are the chances that I would meet you in Moscow today?" he questioned, turning to face her properly for the first time in the conversation.

"Fairly high – we're doing a show just down the road from here."

"And in Rome, Paris and Madrid too? What the hell are the chances? With all the people in the world, and all the countries…all the places and times either of us could be at…its bloody ridiculous."

She nibbled her biscuit again and pointed accusingly at him, "I still say you're following us."

"I really have better things to do than follow a bunch of street clowns around, thanks."

"Oooh," she giggled, "Nice comeback, seeing as you invited one back to your house."

"You invited yourself around." He corrected.

"Whatever. Besides, I thought you said back at the airport that you had absolutely nothing to do with yourself?"

Tala's eyes narrowed and at once Julia regretted her remark. He'd trusted her, a total stranger, with his deepest of worries and she'd used it to make fun of him. Not nice.

"Sorry."

He said nothing, pouring boiling water into the two mugs and stirring them. Julia swallowed.

"So…why _were_ you in Paris, Madrid and Rome?" she asked, watching him. He was silent for a moment, heaping white substance into his drink.

_Man, he likes his coffee sweet._ Her eyes narrowed, _Wait, that's not sugar…Is that…? _

"I was travelling," Julia's attention was lifted from the coffee and she thought no more on it.

"Travelling?"

"Got nothing else to do. Not much nightlife around here unless you're bent on getting liver cancer - it was your idea anyway." He approached the small kitchen table and placed both coffees down upon it. Julia went to take the last Jammie Dodger but he beat her, stealing it from beneath her fingers and swiftly dunking it in his drink. She pulled a face.

"That's disgusting."

He shrugged and was on the verge of a rather immature comeback when a loud slamming noise was heard from the direction of the front door.

Bryan entered the room a few moments later, hauling seven plastic shopping bags which Julia saw, with much amusement, contained six jumbo packs of Jammie Dodgers, one solitary banana, two cartons of not-from-concentrate pineapple juice and about the equivalent of one adult's recommended yearly allowance of alcohol in the form of WKD, pear cider and vodka.

"Weekly shopping," he explained when he saw her questioning gaze.

"Right," she said doubtfully, "You planning on drinking all that between you?"

"Nah, Ian's coming to visit, some crap about lawsuits and debt so he's gonna be staying in his old room for a bit." He paused, "Julia, right? From that European team, F-whatever-the-hell?"

"F-Dynasty." She supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, sure."

There was a lull in the conversation as Bryan turned to put the 'shopping' away and Tala attempted to fish biscuit crumbs from the bottom of his drink with his spoon, before giving up and just slipping the spoon bowl in his mouth.

He removed it a second later, staring down at it, lip curled, "Ugh."

"What?"

He paused, then dropped the spoon back into the mug, "I think I put salt in my coffee."

Julia and Bryan both burst into loud laughter, causing Tala to scowl and glare down into his drink, as if it were its fault. Suddenly Julia's eye caught something at the bottom of the pile of discarded paper on one of the kitchen units; she jumped up and snatched it, flourishing it triumphantly.

It was a multicoloured flyer with bold, garish lettering, a picture of two masked clowns doing a beyblading act and a list of dates.

"Ha! I knew it! So you are following us around!" she cried brandishing it for both males to see. Tala merely shook his head.

"Julia, you gave me that at the airport. And the dates are for two months ago."

The look of disappointment that dropped onto the girl's face was so comical that Tala snickered, raising his cup to his lips without even thinking and taking a large gulp of his coffee.

A second passed, and then all of a sudden, Tala's eyes bulged. He dropped the mug onto the floor, climbed to his feet and stumbled a few steps in the direction of the sink before his eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the floor. Julia screamed, Bryan swore, and then the two of them raced over to him.

"Not again," Bryan groaned. He slipped his hands under Tala's limp arms and hauled him through a doorway towards a rather moth-eaten settee.

"'Again'? He- he does this often?" Julia questioned, looking slightly shaken as Bryan half-dragged the redhead onto the sofa. Bryan shrugged.

"It's a side-effect of something Boris did to him back at the Abbey. Happens when he's shocked or totally knackered. He's so embarrassed when he wakes up, it's great."

Julia grinned at the thought of Tala the 'Ice Prince' being embarrassed, but couldn't help feeling slightly concerned at the lack of consciousness being displayed by the aforementioned.

"Shouldn't we try and wake him up or something?" she suggested, moving a little closer to the makeshift sickbed. Bryan shrugged again.

"Yeah, I guess." He shoved his hands into his pockets, then smirked, "Try the kiss of life, that might work."

Julia rolled her eyes, "Mmm, I'm sure it will. I'm not an idiot you know."

She leant over Tala and just watched him, his chest rising and falling slowly and his expression peaceful. It was an emotion she'd never seen on him before in the brief time that she'd known him.

She placed a hand on his forehead; it was warm, but not feverish, and she barely had time to register the thought before Tala reacted to the physical contact. His muscles tensed, his eyes snapped open and his upper body jerked up into a sitting position. Their noses bumped, their lips smashed together for a half-second, and they stared at each other, stunned, for another half-second, then Julia tumbled sideways off the sofa with a shriek and Tala dropped back to rest on his elbows.

Bryan nearly fell over he was laughing so hard.

"That…that…was the _funniest_ thing I've seen all week!" he gasped, stumbling over to them. Julia was flushing furiously, but Tala was calm and composed, arms folded as he sat up to survey his hysterical flat-mate.

"You obviously don't get out much, Bryan." He shook his head, "It was only a _kiss._ Get over it."

"Only a kiss, Tala?"

Both boys turned to see Julia sitting cross legged on the floor, a dangerous glint in her eyes. Tala arched an eyebrow, his signature smirk coming to rest across his lips.

"Why, you think you can do better second time round?" he sneered.

"I think you're just trying to goad me into kissing you again."

Tala let out a bark of laughter, "Hah! Don't flatter yourself. I was just giving you a chance to prove yourself."

"I don't need to _prove myself_ to anyone."

"Fine, don't."

"Fine, I won't."

Bryan's head was moving like he was watching a tennis match, expression slightly bemused.

And then suddenly she was kissing Tala, hands planted firmly on either of his shoulders, practically sitting in his lap as she bent over to reach him. Something in the back of her mind dimly panicked about _doing it wrong_ but that all dissolved into nothing when she felt his arms tighten around her waist and then she really was sitting in his lap, not even thinking anymore, just _doing_.

Bryan shuffled around from foot to foot awkwardly, wondering whether or not he was supposed to be seeing this.

And, oh lord, she was kissing Tala; _Tala_, the bad boy, and dear god, Raul would have a fit if he found out but that was only because he'd never got off with anyone himself, the loser, and oh goodness was that his hand…? She didn't even care. This was so weird and so _wrong_, she wasn't the type of girl that went for strangers, she hardly knew him, but damn he was a good kisser and-

And then he was pulling away, arms dropping back to his sides. He didn't even have the grace to be flushed or out of breath, and his hair was still perfectly gelled, whereas she was sure hers all over the place from where he'd been running his fingers through it.

He stared at her for a few seconds, his nose inches from hers, something unreadable in his expression, and for a moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her again.

But he didn't. He moved backwards to allow her to remove her legs from the tangle of limbs they had created on the sofa, folded his arms, then turned and grinned in his infuriatingly cocky way at Bryan.

"See, Bryan? Just a kiss."

Julia swallowed hard against the feeling of hurt that welled at his statement.

Sheesh. She really needed to get a life. It wasn't as if she liked him that way or anything, right?


	3. Second Morning

**Second Morning**

Waking up to sunshine streaming through the curtains was not something Tala was accustomed to. Years of getting up at the crack of dawn had made him a habitually early riser, so when he opened his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar place, the small bedside clock reading nearly ten o'clock, he was a little confused.

After a few moments he recognised his surroundings; a small, rather quaint room in a tastefully decorated Parisian hotel that he'd been staying in for most of the week. Although he was alone in the bed now, the state of the covers showed that during the night there had been…activity.

Tala bowed his head as the memories came flooding back.

Paris in the springtime; but the situation wasn't nearly that simple. He'd been sent there on a business trip, only to be informed that it would be his last trip with that particular business – they couldn't afford to keep him so they'd sent him to Paris as a peace offering. Understandably, he'd been more than a little put out, as this was the first half-decent job that he'd been able to hold down, so he'd made his way to the first alcohol-serving place he could find.

And he'd bumped into Julia. _Julia_. Of all the people in all the bars in all the towns in all the countries in the world…Julia. It seemed that fate enjoyed following him around and jumping out at random times, screaming "WOOHOO! COINCIDENCE!" Either that or she was right and he really was subconsciously trailing the circus.

She was in a bad way; her head was in her hands, fingers laced into her hair and from the way her shoulders were trembling, it was obvious that she was finding it hard to fight back the tears.

It turned out that she and Raul had been in a massive argument and now he'd decided to fly back home on his own and was refusing to talk to her. Bad feelings between the twins rarely lasted more than a few hours due to Raul's generally light-hearted disposition, but it seemed that she'd really managed to upset him this time.

He never got to the bottom of what exactly transpired between the siblings, because the moment he walked up to the bar she latched herself onto him, lips moving alarmingly eagerly over his own and her hands in his hair, then creeping under his shirt…

Part of him was quite content with the situation and was loath to disturb the girl's wandering hands, but another part – a quite small part – was having one of those irritating urges that he sometimes got to _do the right thing_. Besides, if she continued at the rate she was going they were going to get arrested within five minutes. So he pushed her away and asked her what the hell she was doing, and whether she was drunk. When she insisted that she was sober, he asked her twice more (from his experience, he'd learnt that drunks were notoriously inconsistent and usually in denial), and then confirmed with the barkeeper that he'd sold her no alcohol.

"I've had an argument with my brother. A really bad one." she said, voice uncharacteristically soft with a pained undertone, then, softer still, "Please."

He knew what she was asking for. He also knew that it wouldn't make the situation any better – but it would make them _feel_ better.

"I've just lost my job." He admitted, licking his lips and shoving his hands into his pockets. She smiled weakly and linked arms with him.

"Your place or mine?" she asked jokingly, and for a few moments a familiar spark of amusement danced in her eyes. But doubts were still niggling in the back of his head; their strange half-friendship had already nearly been destroyed by the last time they'd done this, leaving them awkward and confused of their feelings, and he wasn't sure how much longer it would hold out.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice gruff with alien concern.

The sparkle dimmed from her emerald orbs and she nodded, biting her lip and holding his stern gaze. "Yes." Her firm façade faltered for a moment at the uncertainty in his eyes, "Look, if you don't-"

He silenced her with his lips; a short, rough kiss to show her that he craved that particular type of comfort as much as she did. He pulled back, his mouth stopping just by her ear "Mine." He breathed.

Julia's whole face flamed and she took a step back, "What?"

Tala blinked in confusion for a second, before barking with laughter. She'd clearly got the wrong end of the stick.

"I mean, _my place_, you idiot." He snickered, "Did you really think…?"

Julia did not reply, and he noticed that she'd got that odd, injured look on her face again. He guided her out of the bar with a light touch on the small of her back, and wondered when he'd started being concerned about other people's feelings.

The night had progressed as nights like those were expected to. And here he was now, quite awake but Julia-less, still trying to work out whether or not he regretted what had happened

After all, they'd both consented. It wasn't like last time; 'last time' was after the BBA Annual party, but it was one of those evenings where the alcohol flowed a little too freely, and people danced a little too close together, and there were far too many handy little side-rooms…

It had been _rather embarrassing_, to say the least, waking up the next morning and finding the half-naked form of someone he'd half-considered a friend curled up with her nose just centimetres from his. Even more so when she'd woken up and found him staring down at her, and then jumped so violently that she'd actually tumbled out of bed, dragging the duvet down with her and exposing…well…everything.

It had been nearly a year since then, and he'd seen her once at the Grangers' Christmas do that he'd been blackmailed into going to. And they'd avoided each other all evening.

Tala stood and wrapped his dressing-gown around himself. He was quite glad that Julia'd left, actually – she must have thought ahead and graciously decided to spare them both the awkwardness of the morning after. Just the thought of meeting her again gave him goosebumps and was making his stomach go all fluttery and-

-And that wasn't good. Tala froze, staring out into space for a few moments, eyes wide in horror of his sudden revelation. Then he shook his head, chuckling at himself. No. No, that couldn't be it. He wasn't falling for _Julia_, gosh, she was hardly his type.

He stopped again. What _was_ his type?

…Feisty…confident…able to hold her own…hot…

No. Julia was just…well, they'd slept together twice, so he couldn't really call her his friend…she was…

Tala suddenly felt rather sick. He grunted in irritation, rubbed his eyes, swore a few times under his breath then decided to have a shower to help clear his head. _Feelings_ were far too complicated to think about less than five minutes after waking up.

He got as far as the en-suite door when he stopped again. Something…something smelt good. And someone was singing. Loudly. Brows furrowed in confusion, he crept towards the door that would lead to the small kitchen. It was a little ajar, so he poked his head round it.

His eyes widened, his gaze softened, mouth hanging slightly open, and at once he decided this was definitely a scene worth waking up for.

It was like something out of a particularly cheesy romantic comedy; dappled sunlight beamed down on Julia as she danced around the kitchen, a box of eggs in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other, in nothing more than her underwear and one of his old Demolition Boys t-shirts that he'd left in the bottom of his suitcase, singing at the top of her voice to a bubbly song that was playing on the radio.

"_And then I saw her face! – Now I'm a believerrr!_"

She was bopping and pirouetting, resorting to just humming as she held the spoon in her mouth so she could crack the eggs into a pan. She spun gracefully on one foot in time to the music, depositing the egg shells into the bin, and then her eyes met his.

The look that spread across her face was not the absolute humiliation that he'd anticipated; rather, her features seemed to light up at his very presence. She skipped over to him, taking his hands in hers and leading him into the room.

The spell was broken. His arms went rigid, "I don't dance." He informed her firmly. She giggled.

"Oh, come on, spoilsport! Nobody's watching! Let your hair down."

He still did not move, so she shrugged, happily swaying her hips and swinging his hands in time with the beat.

And…maybe the song was a little more familiar than he'd first thought. It was quite catchy. When he thought about it later, he would blame it entirely on Julia's poor ability to remember lyrics. Honestly, he _had_ to correct her. It was hardly his fault that he happened to know all the words.

It was a few moments before he realised that he was _shimmying_ with _Julia_ in his _underwear_, and as the very idea mortified him, he switched off his pride and self-respect so he could at least enjoy the guitar solo.

And then her arms were slung around his neck and their noses were touching, and she was laughing and he was singing without even thinking –

"_I'm in love – ooooh! I'm a believer, I couldn't leave her if I tried."_

Tala didn't even notice that the song was coming to a close, because all of a sudden Julia's face was coming towards his and she was kissing him, but gently this time, and full of affection. She pulled back after a few seconds, beamed at him, then skipped back over to the forgotten frying pan.

"You're in a good mood." He surveyed rather lamely, reeling a little from the adrenaline that was rushing through his veins from all the dancing.

She grinned over her shoulder at him, "I woke up and found loads of messages on my phone from Raul, apologising for storming off. We're going on the same flight again, and he's meeting me at one for a make-up-lunch. So I decided to make victory pancakes!"

"Victory pancakes…" he repeated slowly.

"Mhmm!" she chirped, turning back to her cooking, still humming under her breath.

Tala sat down heavily at the table and rubbed his temples. He was exhausted, unemployed, stuck in Paris with next to no money, and yet he was strangely light-hearted.

His gaze travelled back to Julia, the bold red name _Ivanov_ branded across her back revealed as she swished her hair out of her face. He realised, for the first time, that she really was quite beautiful. He was lucky to be sharing whatever the hell he had with her. He certainly didn't deserve it. Good things in his life were scarce and didn't tend to stay for long.

As she turned around to show him how she could catch the pancake, waves of pure excitement and delight cascading off her and splashing him with their warmth, he hoped that this good thing would be sticking around for a while.


	4. Second Question

**Second Question**

Raul watched as his sister marched, jaw set and emerald eyes blazing, along the corridor towards the room where they would wait to board.

Another argument. Probably something ridiculous – it usually was. She hadn't told him what it was about yet, but he knew she would tell him eventually.

They'd so nearly missed their plane – Julia was supposed to meet him outside Tala's at ten so they could get to the airport two hours early and have time to check in without having to rush. It had been her plan, but at ten she'd still been inside, and it wasn't until eleven thirty that she stormed out and it had taken him half an hour to calm her down and coax her into the car. The check-in staff had been rather annoyed at their tardiness but they still had ten minutes or so before the plane left.

Raul turned to look at his sister again; he could see tears crowding in the corners of her eyes as she held her head up and bit her lip. That Tala had caused her nothing but trouble, he thought irritably. Why did she have to choose someone so bloody _difficult_ to, as she put it 'have a thing with'?

_A thing_, because boyfriend or lover just sounded plain odd. They'd been having this 'thing' for over a year now, ever since she'd fled to the Russian redhead's hotel room after their last big argument. She'd returned to him the next day, more than a little chipper, and it didn't take a genius to work out what was going on between them.

It really wasn't his place to be disapproving; he was the younger brother, as he was often reminded, and if he even tried to step in between Julia and what she wanted he would get blasted out of the way without a second glance.

And so he went on with life, missed her when she went to visit, received several early morning phone calls (he wasn't sure what the time difference was between Russia and Spain, but she always seemed call at three in the morning) where she would blubber incoherently about how stupid it was to love and hate someone at the same time and –

It was at times like those that Raul was reminded of Tyson and Hilary's relationship when they were teenagers – he and Julia had gone to visit for a while and stayed at the dojo, and observed this very same problem.

It was obvious to anyone that Tyson and Hilary cared very much for each other. The only trouble was that they argued about absolutely everything! They were in love, so they spent a lot of time together, but the more time they spent together, the more they clashed and hurt each other.

It got to the point where they realised that they would either have to end their relationship or continue to suffer by each others' hands. They chose each other over their pride and were now five years married with a little boy that he could never remember the name of.

He half hoped that Julia and Tala would break up, at least then she could stop to-and-fro-ing between love and hate – and Russia and Spain. But he also knew that Julia's inconsolable moping if that ever happened would make everybody's life a misery.

It was obvious to anyone, like in Tyson and Hilary's relationship, that Julia was crazy about Tala; while she didn't gush or squeal about him, a fire would always spark in her eyes, and she was always going to visit him, even if the circus wasn't due to go through Russia. Raul wouldn't be surprised if the airport staff knew her by name.

And Tala…well, he was a little harder to read. Where Julia usually wore her heart on her sleeve, Tala was mysterious and a little more contained. He was either calm and smirking or furious and shouting; the emotions in between were very subtle.

Last summer Tala had visited the circus base in Spain and Raul had, by default, spent a lot of time with him. He made sure to follow the young man's behaviour closely.

In the long, cosy hours they spent sitting around a roaring campfire as the night closed in; in the precious, snatched moments of rest between shows; when Julia's footing had slipped on her brother's shoulders, one day, and she very nearly broke her ankle; Tala seemed to ooze a strange kind of tenderness. Raul knew very little about what happened in the dark days of what was referred to only as 'the Abbey', but he imagined that rare warmth came from the person that Tala might have been, under different circumstances.

Whatever it was, wherever it came from, it was as sure proof that the Russian loved Julia as a flashing neon sign would have been.

In some ways, he was very pleased by this – Tala respected Julia very much, way more than any of her other boyfriends. Brooklyn had broken her heart (and then she broke his nose, so he got what he deserved really) and she'd given up on Kai because she just couldn't get close to him.

And then Tala had appeared out of nowhere. An anomaly in her boyfriend pattern, it had taken close to two years before they had realised the depths of their feelings for each other, and even longer before they'd actually acknowledged this and _officially_ got together.

The only trouble in their newly blossoming relationship was that they clashed so often. Or, more specifically, their pride and heated tempers meant that it was often days before either of them would apologise after a fight. Raul was hardly an expert in these matters, but he could see that something was going to have to be done before one of them left for good.

As he glanced towards his sister, who was gulping and trying unsuccessfully to keep her bottom lip from trembling, he hoped fervently that whatever it was would happen soon.

"C'mon Julia," he said softly, touching her elbow and leading her towards the tunnel that would take them outside to the plane. She sniffed and scrubbed furiously at her eyes with the palm of her hand, allowing him to guide her along towards where a queue of people were waiting.

"JULIA FERNANDEZ!"

There was a booming thud from behind them. Several people peered over their shoulders.

Tala stood at the end of the corridor, panting heavily. Raul was sure that if the sliding door the Russian had just pushed open rather violently had been a normal door, it would be hanging off its hinges right now.

Julia stiffened beside him but did not turn around.

"HAVE YOU ANY _FUCKING_ IDEA HOW FAR I HAD TO RUN TO GET HERE?!" Tala roared, hands bracing himself against the doorway as he tried to catch his breath.

Still Julia did not speak.

"SIX _FUCKING_ MI-"

"Stop swearing!" she cried, spinning around, dark hair flying and green eyes flashing. Tala stood up straight and she met his narrowed gaze evenly.

There was a pause where both parties stared furiously at each other, the tension in the air crackling like electricity. Raul stood awkwardly behind his sister, looking between the two like he was watching a tennis match. Bystanders muttered and moved along the tunnel.

Julia was the first to break it, grinding her teeth, "You _ran_ six miles to get here? _Six miles_?"

"Yes!" he folded his arms, "Boris's experiments gave me enhanced physical endurance. I can go for longer. You of all people should know that."

Raul cleared his throat, embarrassed, and was ignored.

"You ran all the way here. From your house." Julia shook her head, "WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU TAKE THE CAR??"

"I TRIED TO, BUT IT WOULDN'T START AND I COULDN'T LET YOU LEAVE WITHOUT…" Tala trailed off and swallowed heavily, "Without telling you..."

"What?" Julia yelled, the tears swelling in her eyes, "_WHAT?_"

"WITHOUT TELLING YOU THAT I LOVE YOU, OK?!"

"YEAH, WELL I LOVE YOU TOO!"

"GOOD!" Tala put his hands on his hips, "THEN-"

A deafening roar swamped the whole building, drowning out the redhead's words. The three of them clamped their hands over their ears as the plane passed over the airport, and then there was silence.

Tala stared expectantly at Julia, who blinked, confused, "What?"

"You didn't hear…?"

She shook her head, "Did you say something?"

Tala gaped in disbelief. For a second, he didn't move. Then he began to laugh, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders shaking. His laughter held a strange kind of madness, and for the first time Raul witnessed the psychological damage that had been left from his days in the Abbey.

"Figures. _Fucking figures_."

Raul turned to glance at his sister; she was staring, enraptured, confusion written all over her face. Tala's laughter faded into a wide, distinctly wolfish grin, and suddenly the psychotic darkness was gone. The worst thing that Raul could see in his expression was overconfidence.

He held out his arms to her.

"Marry me."

All that could be heard was the muffled background noise of a plane taking off. The moment passed.

"_What_?!" Raul spluttered.

Tala shrugged and his grin widened, if that was possible, "Marry me." he repeated.

Julia's mouth opened and closed a few times. Both males stared at her.

Then her face broke into a beam that could have rivalled Tala's, and he barely had time to brace himself before she ran at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and kissing him so hard he staggered backwards a few steps to catch his balance.

Raul couldn't help but smile as he watched him. He righted Julia's bags, which she had knocked in her haste to reach him, and turned to dismiss any rubberneckers.

There were none.

He turned around in a full circle, and then jogged a little way down the tunnel. Everyone had gone.

"Oh bugger."

Tala and Julia didn't even notice him. He cleared his throat a few times, then repeated himself louder.

"Bugger!"

Julia pulled back and untangled herself from her fiancé. "What?" she asked. Elated didn't even begin to describe her expression.

Raul, however, couldn't be more unamused. "They've gone."

Tala blinked, an easy smile still on his face, "Who?"

Raul paced up and down a few times, his face working, as if he were trying to decide between bursting into tears and screaming in pure irritation. He went with annoyance, spinning back to face his sister and soon to be brother-in-law.

"The others! They've gone! THE PLANE HAS LEFT WITHOUT US!"

Julia's eyes widened. She blinked a few times, and then burst out laughing. Tala snickered, shaking his head.

"I don't know why you find this so funny – next week's show is scheduled for Madrid! We have to learn our routine and I _promised_ Romero we would get back before Tuesday so we would have time!"

Julia bit her lip and glanced at Tala, who had composed his face into a small smirk.

"I'm sorry Raul," Julia patted her irate brother on the shoulder, "But don't worry too much, we'll get the next flight, and bring Tala along with us. We can blame it on him."

She laughed loudly at the protests of both parties, slipped on her rucksack and slung her arms around her boys, frogmarching them back down the corridor to the waiting area.

A few moments later, when they were all sat down, she turned to her sibling, eyes twinkling mischievously. Raul felt a strange kind of anxiety in the pit of his stomach when he saw that look.

"Hey little brother, what do you think of 'Uncle Raul'?"

He fell for that joke twelve times in the next seven months.

-----------------------------------------------

**Hey guys, sorry it's been so long since the last update...I was just wondering, I have a few options on what the next chapter will be, and I wanna know what you think:**

**A - I post the planned next chapter, "Second Chance". This will be considerably shorter than the rest and won't be funny at all - rather, it will be sad and will quite possibly make me cry to write it :( Buuuut...I think it could be a great insight into Tala and Julia's relationship. Only thing is, it may not be up for a while, as I haven't actually begun to write it yet.**

**B - I skip that chapter and post "Second Attempt" as the next chapter. I haven't got much planned for this one yet, but I feel that skipping it will create quite a large time jump. It should continue the (hopefully) amusing theme, and Bryan may very well cameo. Haven't started writing this one, so the gap between updates will be a while.**

**C - I skip both of those chapters and go straight to "Second Awakening". I am actually about half way through writing this, so I could probably get it up quite quickly, but the time jump is rather large and I think you'd miss out on a lot....**

**Or I could post "Second Chance" as a bonus last chapter? I dunno...if you've got any ideas, note me, or stick 'em in a review :) Thanks!**


	5. Second Chance

**Second Chance**

For a few seconds, she is sure her heart has stopped. She gulps heavily, but no air comes. It is as if everything inside her has just ceased to function. And then; sudden, unquenchable joy surges up, filling her from head to toe, and she sits back and revels in it, for just a moment.

He turns his head curiously, one eyebrow arched; like a wolf he can smell her fear, and he is confused. Julia has never known fear like it, not even before her first show was she this afraid, and she is sure that he can hear her racing heartbeat as she stutters up at him. His face is blank, and then his expression works and she sees the doubt in his eyes. She knows that he himself is afraid, afraid of messing this up, "like everything else" he says. She hugs him and he holds her tightly, and only after she sees him smiling does she remember to breathe again.

Raul's delighted enthusiasm is catching; he flies over at once and presents her with a bouquet of her favourite flowers and a card full of messages from their family. It has not yet been two months, but already he and Tala are working on baby-proofing their small house and make a habit of arguing good-naturedly over breakfast about the colour they will paint the room. _Baby_, she thinks. The word is foreign and makes her heart rise in her throat.

The second month passes in a flurry of excitement and well-wishers; only a select few are told, although the news somehow leaks out, as news does. Mariah calls in a gush of congratulations and Hilary offers to organise a baby shower. Somehow Julia's female friends have become few and far between, so she accepts with genuine gratitude. The small bump of her stomach presses out against her clothes, just about visible, and Tala's uncharacteristic fascination with it makes her laugh until her sides ache.

The days are getting longer now, although the weeks are passing faster. The third month comes and is nearly gone. The baby's room is still unpainted, although it is slowly being filled with stuffed toys and books and a beautifully carved cot. Raul takes another week off, postponing his return; Julia thinks he is waiting for an invitation to stay and is touched beyond words when Tala offers it first, without prompting.

Month three is passed and the day of days rolls around. Raul folds himself into a chair at the back of the room, all smiles, and Tala squeezes her hand reassuringly. The gel is cold on her stomach and for a few moments she is distracted, breath catching in her throat and small gasp escaping her.

She looks up to make some sort of joke to Raul, but the look on his face stops her. He has frozen, eyes wide, his teeth jammed into his bottom lip mid-groan. Confused, she turns to her husband in the chair beside her, and realises his grip on her hand is lax. His hand is to his mouth, eyes unblinking in disbelief.

Panic rises in her throat. She tries to push herself up to see the monitor that she is sure they are all staring at, the one with _her baby_ on it, but the doctor presses her firmly down again. He is the only one that moves, and he is frantic, scurrying round fast enough to make up for everyone else's immobility. He jumps up, checks the wires, plugs it, unplugs it, re-plugs it, but apparently to no avail.

Finally she manages to sit up and cranes her neck to see the monitor. There! The fuzzy grey outline of a child, half-formed and beautiful, and for a moment she does not understand what is wrong. A hesitant smile pulls at her lips until the doctor returns to her, moving the small machine around anxiously on her stomach and tapping the screen of a large monitor by her head that is-

Blank.

She realises with a rush that makes her feel sick just how quiet the room is; the heart rate monitor is deadly silent.

Her arms collapse beneath her and she drops back onto the bed, covering her face with her hands.

No. No. This- this could not be…

She dully registers the movement of the ultrasound machine on her swollen stomach, slowing in a desperate last-ditch attempt to find what is missing. She opens her eyes and watches the doctor go to put the sensor down, face lowered in apologetic sympathy.

Then – Tala's hand closes suddenly around one of the bars the bed, gripping it so hard his knuckles are white, eyes growing wide and whole body stiff. He raises a hand.

"Wait! There! What's – what's that?"

The doctor looks up sharply, and now Raul is on his feet, and she feels both Tala and the doctor's hands on her stomach. She pushes herself up to see what Tala is pointing at and her heart skips a beat; there, just behind the dea- the other child – a small, out-of focus shape. The sensor moves and it comes to the front of the picture.

Julia shrieks loudly in surprise when there is a loud noise by her elbow, then another, and another. Tears fill her eyes, she can see Raul's blurred form grinning, and Tala, once petrified of the very idea, grabs her shoulders and kisses her soundly in delight and half-relief.

The tears begin to fall and Julia sobs, torn between grief and gratitude. She can hear the slow, steady, dependable beep of the machine beside her; the sound of the second heart, the heart belonging to the second baby.

And as Tala and Raul both move in to hold her, Julia raises her head and squeezes her eyes shut, and she thanks heaven, and God, and Jesus, and any deity responsible, for this second chance.


	6. Second Awakening

**Second Awakening**

A small tug on the arm. Another tug.

"Daddy?"

The voice is muffled and seems far too far away. An indignant, irritated huff, then another prod in what he is sure must be his arm, although it feels as if it is no longer connected to the rest of him.

"_Daddy_." The voice is high pitched and mildly frustrated now, the prodding becoming a little painful.

"Please, ma'am, she's dislodging the wires…"

A third voice joins as a weight lifts from beside him, "Lucia, darling, we have to go now." The voice is choked and slightly subdued, but firm. It is familiar, but he's not sure why…

"Mummy, no, _no_!" the first voice rises to a shrieking crescendo, "No! No! Daddy! _DADDY_!"

Daddy. _Daddy_. Of course.

Lucia.

She'd shouted that very same thing as that bastard had caught her up in his arms, sweeping her away from him, and he'd roared and chased after him because, dammit, he was _not_ going to lose her! He'd worked too damn hard to prevent his little girl from having the childhood he'd had to suffer, and now he'd come back and stolen her!

He'd always been cautious – too much had happened in his life for him to ever take anything for granted. He was always careful, always checking over his shoulder, even when Boris was hauled off to prison, there was still a chance…

But then he'd met _her_ and he got soft. That life was over now, she'd whispered as she held him through his endless nightmares, he didn't _need_ to be cautious. Boris was gone, he was never coming back.

So he'd settled down. He'd gotten attached to some things, some people, his _family_. He'd experienced every emotion that he'd been raised to loath, and he'd been content for the first time in his life.

One afternoon, a freezing December day in the park; she was talking to a friend, he was pushing the girl on the swings. He'd turned around at some comment she'd made, looked away for a second. She'd laughed, then her whole face paled in horror and she screamed.

An awful man – if he hadn't recognised his shock of greying purple hair and the hooked nose, he would have thought him a hobo from the state of his clothes – was running away and the swing was empty. He took chase, rage and adrenaline fuelling him, but Boris had a head start.

Stupid, stupid. He'd always sworn revenge, declared that he'd come back some day, and here he was, just when everyone had forgotten. He must have been completely insane; no one in their right mind would steal a baby in broad daylight with lots of witnesses. A foolish attempt that would never work, and already he was closing in on him. Ironically, it was Boris's own experiments that had caused him to be so physically enhanced. Thank you very much.

It was only a minute or so into the chase when he caught him, tackling him to the ground and snatching his daughter out of harm's way. This gave the man a few seconds to scramble to his feet, but the sobbing child was passed to her mother and then he was running again.

He had to catch him. He had no choice. Boris would not and could not escape, he could not slither out of punishment again. His feet were beginning to sting from where they were hitting the ground but now they were back in the park again, and he was gaining, but the wet grass was slippery and he miss-judged his stride, he barrelled into the older man's back and then they were both crashing forwards into ice-cold blackness.

"Daddy! No, no, no! Daddy!"

"Lucia!"

The first thing Tala saw as his eyes snapped open was the startled face of his wife. If it weren't for Lucia's tight grip on her top, she would have dropped the girl. Lucia's whole being seemed to light up at the sound of his voice; she shrieked in delight, sent her mother a look that clearly said _I told you so_ then held out her arms towards him.

"Hold!" she demanded, wiggling her fingers expectantly. Julia did not move, her mouth hanging slightly ajar, her arms barely supporting her daughter. She was rooted to the spot, seemingly under the impression that if she moved she would wake up and realise that it was all some kind of dream.

Lucia, however, was not having it. She shrieked again and beat her mother's arms with her chubby fists until she was released onto the bed by a rather dazed Julia.

"Hey," Tala croaked as his daughter buried herself in his arms. He laughed as Julia mumbled something incoherent and slumped down onto the bed, "Earth to Julia, come in Julia."

Julia's whole face crumpled and for a moment he was sure she was going to hit him for teasing her. Then she gasped, bursting into tears and throwing herself at him.

Tala blinked, more than a little smothered and still slightly confused at what was going on. Yes, Julia always over-exaggerated everything, but she wouldn't sob for no reason…just how long had he been out?

Anxiety gnawing inside of him, he pushed his wife back gently, meeting her eyes.

"Julia – how long have I…?"

She swallowed, quickly composing herself, "Three months."

_Three months._

Tala reeled, swallowing heavily. A few days had been disorientating enough last time, but _three months_? He glanced down at Lucia, curled contentedly in his lap. She was barely two years old. How on earth had Julia coped, caring for a toddler on her own?

He caught her eye and she gave him a weak smile, bending to stroke the small girl's hair.

"She's fallen asleep." She chuckled, and then poked him in the shoulder, "Move over."

Tala shifted and she climbed onto the bed beside him, burying her face into his shoulder and breathing heavily, still not quite recovered. After a few seconds of just _being_, he spoke.

"What happened? I mean, why did…?"

The question made Julia looked up. She sniffed.

"Well, you were chasing him…Boris…"

"Yes," he muttered impatiently, "I remember that bit."

She glared at him, "Will you let me finish? Only been awake a few minutes and already you're grumpy! What on earth is your problem?! You're so…so…!"

She trailed off as she saw the grin forming on his face. He had been teasing her and she'd fallen for it, hook line and sinker

"Hate you." She muttered. He chuckled, slipping an arm out from underneath Lucia and wrapping it around Julia's shoulders, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

"You were saying?"

Julia took a deep breath, "Well, you were chasing him and…oh, I was trying to see where you were going but Lucia was crying and she just wouldn't calm down…and then people were screaming that…that someone had fallen in a _lake_ and…" she buried her face in her hands, "I didn't know, I didn't know if it was _you_ or who it was, then…then _you_!"

Tala raised his eyebrows, "Me?"

Julia nodded, "You are one lucky man! Somehow…oh, I don't…you…you climbed out, Tala!" her words were being coming more incoherent as tears welled in her eyes, "Your body temperature was so low, the doctors said…but you crawled out of the water! You collapsed at my feet and I tried to wake you up, you were so cold, then the ambulance crew got there and…I was so scared, Tala, I was so scared, you were so pale and stiff and _cold_ and…and…"

For the second time, Julia buried her face in his chest and sobbed. Tala decided, for once in his life, to be tactful, saving his questions for later and just enjoying the relief dawning inside him that came with the knowledge that, again, he had beaten all the odds.

There was a sharp succession of knocks at the door, followed by the entrance of a rather harassed-looking doctor, the nurse that Tala assumed had objected to Lucia's presence on the bed and must have called the doctor, and, to his surprise, Raul.

"Ah, Mr Ivanov, it is nice to see you awake at last," the doctor nodded to him, then rushed over to a large metal machine and, aided by the nurse, began plugging and unplugging wires.

Julia scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand and climbed off the bed to hug her brother. "Oh, I'm so glad you could make it, Raul…" she sniffed.

Raul grinned and Tala over his sister's shoulder.

"You're up then! Shame, I was hoping I'd get here just before you woke up, draw something on your face…" he dug around in his coat pocket as Julia pulled back, and brought out a pen, "Got a Sharpie and everything! Gutted!"

"Raul!" Julia admonished, punching him on the shoulder as he laughed. Tala just rolled his eyes; Raul was still fifteen years old at heart.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Ivanov, but if you could…?" the doctor gestured to the sleeping child curled in Tala's lap.

"Oh of course, sorry." Julia eased Lucia off the bed, settling her onto a chair, to allow the doctor access.

Tala, however, had other ideas. He grabbed the doctor's arm as he came near, judging now to be the appropriate time to ask the question that had been hanging over him since the moment he woke up.

"The other man, the one that fell in the lake with me. The one that tried to _kidnap my daughter._ What happened to him?"

The doctor winced, the sudden fury that had rushed into his patient's face scaring him. "I-I'm afraid we're not allowed to disclose information about other-"

"I don't care if you're allowed to disclose information, _tell me_." Tala hissed, eyes narrowed.

"I-I – I can't-"

"He died, Tala."

Both the doctor and Tala's head snapped round to where Julia was standing at the end of the bed. The doctor gave her a look but she ignored him, mouth a grim but determined line.

"He caught pneumonia, by the time they got him to the hospital his temperature had fallen too low and they couldn't wake him." Then her voice softened, "It's over, Tala. He's gone."

Tala dropped the doctor's arm and just sat, staring into space, for a few seconds, trying to comprehend exactly what he was being told. Then something clicked in his head.

"Wait," he lunged out but the doctor dodged sideways so he could not be grabbed, "How did…how come _I_ even survived? Surely the odds are…"

"Ridiculous?" The doctor turned back, sensing this was a question meant specifically for him, "Yes. You are a lucky man, Mr Ivanov, a _very_ lucky man. We were perplexed as to why you did not catch pneumonia, or even severe 'flu, until your wife told us you used to live in Russia and were frequently exposed to extreme conditions. The best explanation we have is that your body was adjusted enough to cope with the below-freezing temperature, but the sudden transition sent your brain into shock, causing the coma. It was a miracle that you even managed to stay conscious long enough to climb out of the water, especially since you were wearing a large coat which would have dragged you down. You appear to have quite a knack for survival."

Tala grinned, running a hand through his distinctly ruffled crimson mop, before glancing at his wife, "Just got a lot to survive for, I guess."

"That was cheesy," Julia pointed out, blushing despite herself.

The doctor smiled, picking up his clipboard from where he'd set it on the side and tapping the end of his pen against the top of it, "We've just got to run a few tests, and if they come out positive you should be out here within the week."

As the doctor left the room, tailed by the nurse, Tala rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. Raul echoed his sentiments, heaving himself from the chair at the back of the room and yawning widely.

"I'm shattered! I _hate_ jetlag!" he yawned again, "I'm going to get a coffee from the canteen, either of you two want anything?"

Tala and Julia both shook their heads and Raul left with a wave of his hand. During the comfortable silence that followed, Julia lifted the still-sleeping Lucia from her chair and placed her back in Tala's arms. He received his daughter with a soft smile that would always belong only to her, the strange wonderment of life hitting him again, for the millionth time, as it always did when he held her.

"I was so scared, Tala." Julia's voice was soft and hoarse beside him. He turned to her and saw tears welling in her eyes again. "I thought…you know there was that guy, he was in a coma for _twenty three years_! Twenty three years! And it wasn't even a coma, he was paralysed! What if that had been you? What if you'd been out for six months? A year? _Six years_? Oh- what if you'd missed it? I was so scared Tala, I didn't know when you were going to wake up, and what if you'd missed…?"

"Julia," Tala took her shoulders firmly, used to his wife's nervous babbling but sensing an underlying problem, "It's okay. You hear me? I'm awake, I'm here, and I'm not going to miss anything. What did you think I was going to miss?"

Julia took a deep breath and raked her fingers through her hair, calming herself back down. Her shoulders stopped trembling and she looked up, offering him a golden smile. A smile he had seen somewhere before, glowing with a familiar light.

"Tala," she said simply, "I'm pregnant."

Tala froze, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar. A few seconds passed before he managed to croak, "How long…?"

"Nearly four months now." She giggled at his stunned expression, "I thought it was just stress, but then I started throwing up…I thought I should check and…well!" Tala still appeared to be dumb, so she continued, "I've had a couple of scans…he's fine, Tala."

Tala found his voice, "He…?"

Julia nodded, delving into her bag, which was sitting on the chair beside the bed, and pulling out a carefully stored black and grey photograph. She passed it to him and he examined it, mouth still slightly ajar.

For a few seconds, they sat in silence, Tala staring at the small rectangle of paper in his hands and Julia studying his face intently for any kind of reaction. Then suddenly, without warning, he grabbed her hands and pulled her down onto the bed, bringing her into a tight hug that she was sure she could never escape from, and never wanted to.

"Scared?"

"Shitless."

An indignant noise came from between them and they both pulled back. Lucia had woken up, squashed by her parents' impromptu embrace.

"Daddy." She admonished crossly. He grinned down at her and, seized by a good mood, tossed her up in his arms and tickled her until she shrieked in protest, before rubbing his distinctly bristly cheeks against hers.

"I hear congratulations are in order."

Tala glanced sideways, unable to keep the smile from his face, a trait unusual for him, to see Raul leaning against the doorframe with his coffee. He raised the cup as if in a toast and Tala lifted the small squalling toddler in his direction in response. Both parties burst into laughter, and Raul came and sat beside the bed, his own face split in a huge grin.

"I think you should call him Raul, you know."

"No, that would be confusing." Julia rolled her eyes, shaking her head at her brother's look of disappointment, "Middle name, perhaps."

"Have you any idea how long it's going to take to find a name we both like?" Tala groaned, "It took three months last time, and then we had to find a middle name too! We've only got five more months to go!"

Raul looked a little alarmed, remembering the weeks of desperate searching, "Let's hope you don't have to go through _that_ again…"

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic," Julia waved off their comments cheerily, "How long can it take to find one name?"

In the months ahead, Tala would remember that statement and claim that Julia had clearly jinxed them.


	7. Second Place

**Second Place**

"Ouch! Ah- _ouch!_"

"Well if you'd stop _moving_…!"

"You're ripping a fuc-"

"_Tala_!"

"-Flipping piece of metal out of my arm! I can't just sit here and – ah!"

Taras shifted around from his seat on the floor, obviously distressed by his father's cries of pain, "Is…dad gonna be okay?"

Julia gave him a broad smile, "Dad's gonna be fine, Taras, he's just being a bit of a baby."

"I'm not being a – ouch! – baby! It fuc- _flipping_ well hurts!"

Taras did not appear convinced, but turned back to the film he was watching with a small frown. Lucia approached her father with caution, tapping his good arm to catch his attention.

"Dad?"

Tala glanced up, hissed in pain as the pair of tweezers attacked his arm again and squinted at the small child before him.

"Yeah, Lu?"

"I…umm…" She looked up him, "I'm sorry I left Wolborg outside and you had to go out and him…"

Tala's face softened and he managed a brief smile, before grunting in pain again, "That's okay – ah, _ow_ – I couldn't leave him out there; it's gonna rain tonight and we can't have him going rusty before the tournament tomorrow, right?"

Lucia's face broke into a grin, relieved, "Yeah!" she exclaimed happily, before joining her brother back in front of the TV.

"Okay," Julia uncorked a small bottle and dabbed some of the liquid onto a cotton pad, "This is gonna really sting."

Tala snorted, "Gee, thanks for warning me this- OHFUCKIT-"

"Tala!" Julia hissed, but it was too late; Lucia and Taras both spun around.

"Bucket?" Taras's eyes grew wide with fear, "What-what do you need a bucket for?"

"Yes! Uh-" Julia nodded hastily, "_Bucket_."

Lucia frowned, "But that's not what he-"

"Taras, sweetheart, could you possibly get a _bucket_ for me?"

"Okay, mum!" Taras climbed to his feet, shooting his father a look of terror, and racing out of the room.

Julia chuckled, shaking her head and turning back to her husband.

"Alright, let's get you cleaned up quick before the hemaphobe gets back." Julia grabbed the tweezers and Tala flinched away.

"Be careful with those!"

"Well I've got to get this wire out of your arm! How on earth did you _do_ this?"

Tala gritted his teeth as his wife attacked him with the tiny metal instrument of torture again.

"It was dark outside, okay?"

"We don't even have barbed wire in our backyard!"

"Well evidently we must d – _ow_! Somewhere round by the fence, and I got caught in it!"

"There." Julia picked up the roll of bandage tape and ripped a bit off with her teeth, "Now, I've just gotta patch this up, then you're good to go."

Tala pointed at Lucia, "When this is done, last minute practise session."

"Tala, you two have been practising all day," Julia took a large square of cotton pad and pressed it against his arm, "She needs to get an early night, let her off."

"No mum, it's okay," Lucia grinned, "I wanna do my best tomorrow and-"

"Bucket!" Taras ran in, wielding the plastic object, tripping over, in his haste, both his syllables and his socks. As he pushed himself up from the floor, he looked around fearfully; his gaze found his father and, seeing that his arm was still attached to his body, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Julia stuck down the tape around the pad, before taking the small plastic bucket her son was offering her and carefully depositing the pieces of wire into it.

"Oh," Lucia nodded in understanding, "So that's what you're using it for. I thought it was just a cover up for-"

"Alright, Taras, bedtime!" Julia interjected hastily, jumping up and putting an arm around the small boy to guide him towards the stairs.

"Aww, _mum_…!"

"Nope. Come on!"

Taras squirmed out of his mother's grip, both laughing as she chased him around the room before catching him and throwing him bodily over her shoulder.

"And Lucia," Julia glanced back as she left the room, "I don't care what your father says, you're going to bed in _half an hour_, okay?"

Lucia pulled a face and was on the verge of protesting, when Julia turned back again, sensing rebellion, and gave her a _look_.

"Yeah, mum," Lucia muttered grudgingly. Tala gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, understanding very well what plight all of those who crossed his wife were in, but laughing inwardly.

"C'mon, let's go set up the dish."

Lucia ran ahead, grabbing her beyblade and launcher from where they were sitting on the side and skidding into the small room containing the house's inside training room.

"Alright Wolborg!" Lucia took a firm stance by the dish, launcher loaded and held out, "Let it rip!"

Tala watched, leaning against the doorframe, as Wolborg sped around the small obstacle course arranged carefully inside the dish; first was agility, three swift figures of eight around two large buckets, a slalom run around six coke cans, then another around twelve glass bottles and finally a dodge-dash under four guillotine blades.

After a nod of approval from her father, Lucia sent the 'blade rocketing towards a small open-topped tunnel running through the middle of the dish floor. Inside it were five barriers made of different materials, increasing in difficulty, for strength practise. Wolborg smashed through the first two, a sheet of glass and a thick board of MDF, with ease. The third barrier, a heavy cube of oak, took a second hit and a run-up to break, and the fourth, a distinctly solid metal bar, was defeated in three shots.

The fifth obstacle was a slab of concrete about three inches thick. Lucia quickly realised that greater measures were going to be needed to get through this one.

"Wolborg!"

A huge blast of wind raced around the room, catching up Lucia and the beydish in its wake, but both stood firm. Lucia's eyes narrowed as the wind intensified, concentrated now more inside the dish.

Then the great wolf appeared, its size dwarfing her in comparison, forcing her to take a step back to steady herself as the strength of the wind increased. A grin lit up her face, the burst of light from her BitBeast putting the rest of her face into shadow and causing it to stand out eerily.

"NOVAE ROGUE!"

Wolborg roared and charged; the temperature in the room dropped suddenly, enveloping the dish in ice and causing a small blizzard over it. The beyblade in the middle of the ice storm picked up speed, racing around the dish in dizzying circles.

And then the unthinkable happened; it slipped on the ice, careering down the sloped side of the dish and wobbling into the remains of a smashed bottle. Lucia cried out in horror and it recovered itself, but the speed it had gained was lost and the ice was staring to warm.

"Come on, Wolborg, let's finish this!" Lucia yelled. The 'blade shot down the tunnel, hitting the concrete hard, cracking it but bouncing off. "Go, Snow Blizzard!"

Wolborg sped out into the middle of the dish, whipping up water and spraying all over the concrete block. "Alright, now, Novae Rogue!"

The air dropped several degrees, the slush in the dish turning back to ice at once. The water on and inside the concrete froze, weakening it, a split second before Wolborg barrelled into it and smashed it into tiny pieces. When the mist of water vapour cleared, the 'blade was wobbling crazily in the remains of the dish.

Tala smiled, clapping his daughter on the shoulder.

"That was really great Lucia, that last attack was significantly more powerful than last time you tried. Keep that standard up and the tournament tomorrow should be a cinch."

Lucia bent down and scooped up Wolborg, saying nothing. Tala smiled, raising his eyebrows as she stood up again and met his gaze.

"Nervous?"

"No," Lucia shook her head, then frowned, "Well…no, I'm not. I mean, the crowds don't scare me; it's just like doing a play at school. I like performing! It's really fun!" Her face lit up, then fell, "It's just…what if I don't do very well, dad? I mean – I skidded! It went wrong! What if I'm no better than all the other kids?"

"I bet half of those kids tomorrow won't even have BitBeasts."

Lucia laughed, "It's the _junior_ championships, dad, hardly anyone has BitBeasts!"

"Well then you've got nothing to worry about, have you?" Tala smirked, but he dropped it as Lucia's smile disappeared.

"I don't know dad…I mean, you're a champion - what if I do badly? What if I muck it up?"

Tala sighed, rubbing his mouth thoughtfully; even after years of being a team leader, he had never really been very good at pep talks. An idea occurred to him.

"Lucia, I'm not a champion."

Lucia frowned, "But you and your team made it all the way to the finals - twice!"

"Yeah," Tala nodded, "But then we got beaten by better 'bladers. The very first time I was in the world championships, my team beat nearly every single person we faced. Then it got to the finals, and it was the very last match; me versus Tyson Granger-"

"_The_ Tyson Granger? Five times world champion? Father of Makoto Granger, the current world champ?" Lucia gawped in astonishment. "I knew you were awesome, dad, but…"

Tala rolled his eyes, amused, "Yeah, _that_ Tyson Granger. Cocky kid – well, he's still cocky now, but he was even more insufferable back then. He taught us a few things about teamwork, and friendship, and, uh, the importance of morality…" Lucia blinked, the comment going completely over her head, and he moved quickly on, "Yeah. Me versus Tyson Granger."

"And…he beat you?"

"Yep." Tala shrugged, "That tournament, that day, I came second."

"Second?" Lucia stared into a space for a few seconds, her innocent face suddenly looking much older as she contemplated this. Then her smile returned and Tala let out a silent breath of relief; his daughter was incredibly like both he and her mother in the fact that her moments of weakness were few and far between, and the rare situations where her self-confidence slipped never failed to unnerve him.

"Can you do that for me, Wolborg?" she asked the beyblade, holding it up to her face and gazing at the tiny bitchip in the centre, "Can you help me get to the top, like you helped dad?"

Tala himself heard no response, but from the way her face lit up, he assumed that Lucia had. A kind of sad pang hit him as, once again, he remembered that he was no longer the master of Wolborg. She regarded the machinery in her hand, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Dad, do you think if…if I do really well…I might get recruited for one of the national teams?"

"Lucia, bedtime! Upstairs, now!"

Lucia sighed, placing her gear down on the side and running up the stairs. Julia descended them, catching her husband's strange expression and frowning, concerned.

"What is it?" she asked, taking his hands. His face worked for a few seconds before he shrugged.

"…I don't want Lucia to join one of the national teams."

Julia raised her eyebrows, "It would be a great experience for her, Tala…"

"I know, but she's only ten years old," He protested, "She's far too young to be travelling around everywhere."

"They wouldn't recruit her straight away; she would have to wait until she turned thirteen. And even then, she would have most of her training at the nearest BBA centre, she would only travel during the championships." Julia gazed up into Tala's troubled face, sensing an underlying issue.

"I just…" Tala paused, searching for the right words, "I don't want her to have to be under pressure and spend all her time stressed with training. Like I was. It's not much of a childhood…"

"But she loves beyblading, Tala, you know she does. She loves it because you have given her _your_ love for it."

Tala said nothing, still frowning, hands in pockets and leaning against the doorframe. Julia grinned, slipping her arms around him and resting her chin on his chest to look up at him.

"You're very cute, you know."

Tala arched an eyebrow, "Cute?"

"Yeah, you are." She stuck her tongue between her teeth, "Coming up with all these excuses when, really, you're just scared that your baby girl is growing up." Her gaze softened and she stood on her tiptoes to look him in the eye, "It's alright, you know. I'm scared too…it seems like just the other day she was this tiny toddler, and now…"

Tala closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers. They were silent, just standing like that for a few moments, before he murmured.

"I'm going to miss her."

Julia laughed, "You're acting like she's leaving home! We still have a long way yet before she can join a team, and even then she'll only be away for a few weeks at a time." She tapped his nose, "It's going to be fine, okay? Just don't bottle this stuff up."

Tala managed a grin at that, leaning forwards to kiss her gently, his arms coming round to hold her tightly.

"Ewww! Muuum, daaad!"

"Yuck, don't be so gross!"

They pulled apart and looked up; Taras and Lucia were standing at the top of the stairs in their pyjamas, pulling faces and gagging. Julia raised her eyebrows, hands on hips.

"I thought I told you two to go to bed?"

Lucia stuck out her tongue, "We couldn't sleep over the noise of you two _snogging_!"

Taras burst into uncontrollable giggles; Julia sighed, turning to her husband, "What charming children we have." She muttered wryly.

"Don't look at me," Tala held up his hands, "I never complained about kissing."

"Alright you two, bedtime!" Julia started up the stairs and both children shrieked, running from prospective tickling that was sure to follow any that were caught out of bed.

Tala smiled, walking back to the dish to clear up the mess that the ice had left. His eye caught the 'blade sitting on the side and he regarded it thoughtfully. He glanced back up the stairs, before quickly picking it up from the side, slotting it into the launcher and making a firm stance by the dish.

"Three…two…one…"

Wolborg flew into the dish, the wolf appearing almost instantly, he didn't even have to call for him. Tala swallowed a nostalgic smile.

_I'll look after her, master, don't worry._

Tala started, but could not suppress a grin at the sound of his old friend's voice after so long.

"You better do, Wolborg. You better do."


	8. Second Hell

**Second Hell**

The hardest part of watching him grow up was seeing him change.

Julia buried her face in her hands, closing her eyes against the world. Against the truth.

What happened to her happy little boy? Lucia was the hotheaded one, the frustrating one, the one like _her_. Taras was always more like Raul in the fact that he was incredibly good-natured and patient – at least, when he was a child he was.

How was it that one event could totally destroy a family? One accident that would become totally insignificant when looked upon in years to come, but she could see that it was pulling Taras apart from the inside out.

She herself was finding every day like a parasite to her heart; the first time she had seen her brother after six months and he was lying semi-conscious in a hospital bed. She had gotten used to living for short periods of time without being joined at the hip with him, but the possibility of being parted from him forever…it just didn't bear thinking about.

It had been nearly two weeks since the 'road traffic collision', as the police had called it. She wished they would call it what it was – a horrific hit-and-run, a young man left for dead at the side of the road, miles from home.

Well, that wasn't quite right. Miles from his home, yes, but about five minutes' walk from theirs.

He was towards the end of one of his visits at their house, and she had mentioned, whilst cooking dinner, that they had nothing for desert. Raul, ever the sweet tooth and egged on by the kids, suggested that he should walk down to the local shops and buy something – but, of course, he would go alone, as some sort of test to see how well he knew the neighbourhood.

What was it with Raul and trying to prove himself? Some sort of inferiority complex, perhaps, that came with his status as 'younger brother'. Tala insisted that he borrow his mobile, in case he did get lost, and Raul took it, laughingly, and left, calling over his shoulder that he would be back in ten minutes.

Ten minutes passed, an hour passed, two hours, and still he did not return. Dinner was abandoned and all hell broke loose; Lucia was insistent that, at fifteen, she was well overqualified to be part of the search party, and there was no way that Taras was going to be staying at home if Lucia got to go – after all, he loved his uncle just as much as she did.

In the most horrific turn of events, Taras was the one that found him; Tala had explained the whole thing to her at least three times before she took any of it in through the shock. Taras had left his father anxiously questioning one of the shopkeepers as to the time his brother-in-law left, and had sauntered a little further down one of the small country lanes nearby, swinging his torch around and calling out, just in case Raul had detoured into the woods by mistake.

A loud cry and the sound of retching was what shattered Tala's hopeful illusion that Raul was merely lost; in seconds he was at his pale, frozen son's side, checking him over and quickly sitting him down so he didn't pass out, before venturing forward.

Tala had seen blood and mutilation, he had even seen death several horrific times, but the years had softened him and he was unprepared for what he saw next. Raul was a relative, his brother-in-law, someone he had grown to care for, and here he was, slumped so crudely by the side of the road that it was clear he had been dragged there – that in itself was enough to make his stomach turn.

He forced his emotions down and tried to remember the calm and stoic that came with being an elite Biovalt soldier. Drawing his face into a grim mask, Tala approached and dropped into a crouch, taking Raul's wrist and checking desperately for-

A pulse! There, but faint. Relief rushed through him, but he quelled it as he realised he did not have his phone to call for an ambulance. Wincing as blood caked his fingers, Tala slipped his hand into Raul's jacket pocket, praying that the phone hadn't been crushed along with Raul's ribs – it hadn't, it was still in one piece. Perhaps there was still a chance…

Julia and Lucia met them, half an hour later, in the local hospital. The first thing she saw as she stumbled into the waiting room was Taras, huddled underneath Tala's arm, shaking. She had managed to keep herself composed whilst driving there by repeating to Lucia that it was okay, Uncle Raul was going to be fine - although it was more to reassure herself than anyone else - but the moment she saw the grim line of her husband's mouth, and he took her by shoulders, explaining that Raul was having emergency surgery, something to do with his ribs and a lung puncture, her will to keep it up dissolved.

She would always remember this as Tala's finest hour; he was never very good with dealing with strong emotions, he found it much easier to just suppress them, something that she had been desperately trying to stop him doing in all the years that she had known him. This moment, however, required a man with just that ability. She was close to hysteria, the only things she was capable of doing being standing up and spewing a kind of frenzied word vomit. Taras was curled in the corner of the room, watching everything silently with a glazed-over expression. Lucia, distressed by the night's events and the reactions of her mother and brother, burst into noisy tears, a habit that she had no doubt inherited from her mother and was sure she had grown out of years ago.

For a few seconds, for the second time that evening, all hell broke loose.

And then Tala stepped into his own. Slipping an arm around his manic wife, he guided her firmly to a seat, before returning to the middle of the room and collecting his daughter in a similar fashion. He then picked up his limp son, bridal-style and deposited him in the chair next to Julia, arranging the three of them in such a way that they could be of some sort of comfort to each other. He looked at his wife sternly when she went to stand, telling her she was Not To Move until he got back with something hot for them to drink. Relieved to be removed from a position of authority for a while, Julia nodded and was meek.

It took three rounds of hot chocolate and two packets of jammie dodgers before any of them were in any state to talk. Even then, the conversation came in short bursts. Tala informed Julia and Lucia of what had happened, which was interrupted by Julia climbing to her feet, taking Taras by the hand, and seating him between her and his father, so that he could snuggle up between them in relative comfort and get some sleep. Tala was then subject to hushed questioning from Lucia, who soon succumbed to her own fatigue.

Feeling her own eyelids growing heavy, Julia slipped an arm around her son and daughter, leaning against Tala's shoulder. One question still weighed on her mind.

"Tala…who would do something like this?"

Tala didn't have an answer; he could only shake his head. She dimly registered seeing Taras' eyes flicker open and regard her thoughtfully, a frown creasing his innocent face as he closed them again.

At the time, she did not think it was significant. Taras' sleep that night was restless.

The next morning they were informed that Raul's surgery had gone smoothly, although he had not yet regained consciousness. They spent the day in and out of his room, holding his bandaged hands and talking to him as cheerfully as they could, and then returned home in the evening.

The next few days passed in a blur of anxiety and a kind of tedious, frustrating grief and Julia realised wearily that her family spent too much time in hospitals. Life resumed as normally as possible, visits to Raul taking place after school and training. At least in beyblading the children had some sort of outlet; Lucia had stopped competing in tournaments in order to concentrate on her school work and extra-curricular acting career, but still enjoyed the odd battle in her spare time to let out a bit of steam; Taras had taken a lot more interest in the sport when he accidentally smashed one of the ornaments in the garden and discovered, to his amazement, a bitchip inside.

Tala did extensive research into the origins of the small terracotta object, but neither he nor Julia could remember where and when it was bought. Taras took great delight in finding all about his new bitbeast, an arctic fox by the name of Alopex, and during Raul's hospitalisation he would often spend hours up in his bedroom just talking quietly to, what it seemed like, himself, although she knew he was hearing the other end of the conversation from Alopex.

It hurt her deeply that her son felt he was more comfortable to share his worries with a fox spirit than her, and she longed to take him in her arms and plead with him to tell her what was wrong, to _talk_ to her. When she confided this in Tala, he sighed and told her that there was no point in pushing him; he would let it out when he was ready. Perhaps this was his way of dealing with it and getting better.

But here was still something undeniably _wrong_ with him. She could see it in the way he would skulk at the back of the hospital room, instead of approaching his beloved uncle, just gazing mournfully from a distance. In the way, every afternoon, he would go into the dish room and launch his beyblade, then his energy would disappear and he would frown at it until it stopped spinning. As if he couldn't think of a reason to go on.

And he was twelve, for goodness' sake! Not even a teenager yet, he was still just a _boy_, a little boy, and little boys weren't supposed to be depressed, empty shells! He was happy, and cheerful, and helpful, and now two weeks on and she was forgetting what his smile looked like.

Julia raised her head and yawned. Worrying was exhausting her – it was exhausting all of them. Tala was reverting back into his survival mode; snappy, short, sarcastic remarks and staying as far away from a conversation as possible. She had taken time off work because she found herself unable to concentrate on anything, let alone fight people's battles for them. Lucia seemed to be the only one that was blossoming in this situation, as in this time of crisis, she was only too relieved to dive into another person's shoes.

Rubbing her eyes and sighing, Julia climbed to her feet, gave her sleeping sibling a glance over her shoulder, before leaving the hospital room.

Things had gotten better when Raul regained consciousness; the young nurse who was in charge of attending to him had called them early in the morning, a week after the accident, explaining that he had woken up for a few minutes and had proposed marriage to her, before passing out again. He woke up the next day with no recollection of his previous wakening, but cheerfully healthy and quite himself.

Much to her embarrassment and Raul's complete amusement, seeing him awake again, even still swaddled in bandages and plugged into various machines, made her burst into noisy tears of relief. Lucia was overjoyed, Tala was relaxed and grinning and even Taras showed subdued happiness.

_Even Taras_. The phrase was so wrong. She had been convinced in those first few days that this was it, that this was a turning point. Raul was getting better now. Didn't that mean it was time for Taras to return to his normal self too? Just a week, but it seemed like a lifetime, and already her heart was aching for her little boy to return.

She could see him now, just down the corridor, slumped in one of the waiting room seats as he cradled his beloved beyblade in his hands and muttered quietly to it. Lucia was preparing for a particularly large production with her out of school drama club, so was unable to visit that evening. Julia paused behind the door, leaning against it to watch Tala approach him and sit beside him. Taras acknowledged him with a brief glance up, and slipped Alopex back into his pocket. It was more out of politeness than anything else, as nothing was said for a few minutes.

"I saw you training the other day," Tala spoke up finally, meeting his son's questioning gaze, "I was very impressed by how quickly you've improved. You could definitely give your sister a run for her money."

Although it was hard to see from the angle she was leaning on the door at, Julia knew that Taras' face had lit up from the brief glint of a smile she saw as he ducked his head down. Everyone that got to know Tala learnt that since they were few and far between, when he gave compliments, he meant them.

"Thanks dad." He said softly, then patted his pocket fondly, "Alopex has been a real help, he's great."

"It's not just Alopex, Taras; you've put in a lot of hard work too."

Julia grinned as she watched them chat, warmth building inside of her. A _smile_. Normal conversation. If anyone could bring Taras out of his shell it was Tala; their brains just seemed to work in exactly the same way, and if it weren't for his usual perpetual cheerfulness and bright green eyes, he would be almost a clone of his father. Whilst it hurt her a little that he was unable to speak to her about this, she knew that if anyone could understand why Taras was acting as he was, or try to find out why, it would be Tala.

Taras rubbed the end of his nose and the corner of his mouth curled into a grin, another habit that was endearingly like his father. "Yeah, I guess…"

There was another moment of silence where both parties knew the subject that was coming up, but wished not to have to approach it. To Julia's surprise, Taras was the one that spoke first this time.

"Dad…" Taras looked down, chewing his lip and staring at his shoes. Tala said nothing but watched his son intently.

"I'm…I'm angry…"

Tala's mouth twitched, but he said nothing.

"I'm…so _angry_…" Taras curled his hands tightly into fists, and then released them; staring down at them as if he had never seen them before, before letting out his breath in a frustrated sigh.

"I...I can't believe that anyone would do that. To Uncle Raul. Just…leave him there! Drag him to the side of the road and…and _leave_ him there! It's wrong! It's so wrong!" he dropped his head to his hands and wound his fingers into his crimson hair. Julia pressed her forehead against the door, using every ounce of self-restraint to stop herself flinging it open and running to him.

"How could anyone do it? I just…argh! It makes me so angry, and I can't- I just can't- I'm just…so angry! And I don't know what…I don't know…I don't know…"

Tala shifted in his seat, wordlessly extending an arm to his son, who, with a gasp, finally succumbed to tears and buried his face into his father's chest. Julia dug her teeth into her lip, one hand coming to her mouth. Tala rested his chin on top of his son's head and looked directly at her, raising his eyebrows until she caught his gaze; it was one of both relief and sadness.

A few minutes passed with boy and man both silent, save for the lurching breaths that came with sobs.

"Taras…do you remember when I told you about that place I used to live in, when I was about your age? About the things that happened there? Do you remember?"

Taras' head emerged from his father's shirt. He nodded once. Tala took a deep breath, and it was his turn to study his shoes.

"When I was ten years old, my mother left me with my abusive drunk of a father. She couldn't stand him anymore, and she didn't want me around as a reminder of him. So she upped and left. After that I lived more on the streets than with my father, then I got lured in by the abbey…"

Taras shifted in his seat so he could better see his father's face. Tala's eyes flickered up momentarily.

"Do you remember, about three years ago, when I visited Russia for a week?"

"You never said why…" Taras murmured, frowning a little.

Tala nodded, "There was a reason. Bryan…you remember Bryan. He called me and told me that he'd seen my father on the local Russian news; arrested for drug dealing." He snorted, "Like an idiot, I booked a flight over there at once. I didn't know what I was expecting…some sort of explanation, maybe, for why he did what he did…I think mostly I wanted to show up and rub in his face all that I had become, all that I had, that he would never and could never have…I was really, really angry. And I wanted him to know."

Julia watched, heart growing heavy as she recalled the next part of the story. Tala raised his head, eyes narrowing a little as he re-examined his memories.

"I got to the prison and he recognised me at once. He gave no apologies. He had no excuses for his actions. He wasn't _sorry_. And he told me…that it was _his_ fault. That it was all, all of it, _his fault_."

Taras blinked, confused, "What do you mean?"

"What I mean, is that Boris Balkov did not find me by mere chance. He was looking around for strong, intelligent young boys; he was asking people in the local pub, in the street, asking around, offering rewards…when I was twelve years old my own father _sold_ me to BIOVAULT."

The blow was not softened in any way, and Taras received the knowledge of his father's slavery with a desperate hug, lunging forwards suddenly out of his chair and sprawling himself into the embrace. It lasted a few seconds, before he pulled back again, a question on his lips.

"What did you do when he told you?"

Tala studied mid-air once more, then said quietly, "I walked away. I knew that if I stayed a moment longer, I would end up in the cell next to him." He looked down, "I was so angry, Taras. I didn't know what to do with myself."

"What did you do?" Taras asked earnestly.

"I spent several days in a similar state to how you have been, until your mother finally snapped and screamed at me until I screamed back and told her what was wrong," Tala couldn't help but grin a little, "As she likes to frequently remind me, you can't keep this stuff bottled up, Taras."

"So you're saying…" Taras frowned, "I should go shout at mum?"

Tala laughed, and from the other side of the door, so did Julia.

"No. I mean…it's good to get these things out in the open. Apparently. So she tells me." Tala rolled his eyes and, for the first time in a week, Taras burst out laughing. It was a little bit forced, more than a little over the top, and ended in slightly desperate gasps of breath. Tala swallowed as he saw his son once more retreating into his shell of fury, physically going back into himself but this time his head was held up and his eyes were glittering with determination.

"I'm going to find them, dad. Whoever did this."

"Taras…"

"It's not impossible to find trace metal, perhaps there might be a lead on Uncle Raul's clothes. And there were skid marks on the road! You could add it all up, find the car, find out who in the local area has that car, start questioning people on alibis- it would be easy!"

Julia saw Tala grab Taras firmly by the shoulders and sit him down forcefully.

"You have been watching too many murder mysteries." He looked his son in the eyes, "Taras, the police are already investigating. In any case, it is incredibly unlikely the people will be found-"

"You don't think that this is wrong?" Taras jumped to his feet again, "You don't think these people should be found and- and punished?"

"Taras! I want to make those sorry bastards pay dearly for every single moment of anguish and agony they have caused our family!"

There was a shocked silence where even Julia found herself catching her breath.

Tala pinched the bridge of his nose and regarded his stunned son, "You can't get justice for everything Taras, that's just the way this world is."

Taras' mouth worked, his inbuilt beliefs of truth and righteousness being shaken at the foundation. He sat down slowly, curling his knees up to his chest and staring at the opposite wall as his mind churned and processed all that he had heard, trying desperately to come to a conclusion that kept the world as the fair and beautiful place of his childhood, although realising that with the events of the last week, he had inevitably been thrust out into the reality of human nature.

Tala sighed, unsure of what to do for the best and too tired to formulate a response that would be both truthful and cheerful, to raise his son out of melancholy. Instead, he sat down and put an arm around the boy's shoulders. Julia took this as good a time as any to intervene and, shooting her still-sleeping brother an affectionate glance over her shoulder, pushed open the door and entered the hospital hallway. She was greeted with a nod from her husband, who stood, prompting Taras to do the same. She offered them both a smile.

"Time to go home, I think." She said quietly, slipping an arm around the weary-looking Taras and squeezing his shoulder. He resisted for a moment, then relaxed and hugged her back. Julia's smile widened a little and she wound the other arm around Tala's waist, catching his eye.

His expression was troubled and his face, which normally was so perfectly chiselled that few people realised he was past his mid-thirties, seemed to reflect the full length of his years and all the horrors that he had seen.

"You did your best," she murmured, patting him gently on the hip, and he shrugged, jaw becoming a little less tight, but the intense worry still not quite disappearing. On her other side, Taras sighed deeply, apparently giving up on his train of thought for the moment, and snuggled into her side. The three of them walked out the hospital into the sharp February evening air, and Julia prayed silently that the horrors of the last few weeks would pass over soon.


	9. Second Night

The young man with his shock of red hair had paced along the airport floor for nearly two hours, pausing every few minutes to glance hopefully back up at the sign above him, before swearing under his breath and returning to his incessant pacing.

His plane was delayed. He couldn't get home. He was bored and tired and annoyed.

He had devoted another few minutes to scowling at nothing in particular, before giving up on pacing, running a hand through his deep red hair, and then he had headed over to the nearby café for a coffee. There had been no free tables, so he'd got talking to a pretty girl and had shared her booth for an hour or two until his plane came in.

He had got on his flight with an air of anticipation, a little nervousness, but a kind of deep-rooted happiness had been tugging on his heart strings at the thought of going home.

Taras ran a hand through his crimson mop and wished with all his soul that he could return to being that blissfully ignorant young man again.

It wasn't fair.

Did this sort of thing happen to all families? It was ridiculous, it was unfair, it was un_just_, it was-

That's it, Taras, focus all your energy into anger, then you don't have to think. Then you don't have to accept or dwell on or even acknowledge that…that…

Taras's shoulders heaved but no sobs came. He raised his head and examined the sky; it was beginning to lighten. He'd been up for nearly twenty four hours now, although the time difference made it seem infinitely more. He was exhausted and both emotionally and physically drained, but still he could not sleep. Jetlag, probably.

Raul's accident, seven years ago - almost to the day - had affected him in ways that he could not have imagined. His education was not a problem, and he passed all of his exams with relative ease and top marks. However, at the age of eighteen, when all of his friends were looking into universities and employment, he still felt something lacking.

So he just upped and left. That was it. It was that easy. He picked a plane, booked his tickets, packed his bags and just left. Sure, his family had been confused, at the very least. He told them it was a gap year and disappeared for close to three years.

He travelled the world for six months, plane-hopping and site-seeing, until, to his surprise, he found himself in Russia. Perhaps it was just curiosity about his heritage; most of his childhood family holidays were to Spain, hanging out with the circus and Uncle Raul, but he'd never once visited his father's home.

Or perhaps something else was driving him, something that had been niggling at the back of his mind for a long time. Perhaps it was that one line, the words his dad had said just before he left.

He had been packing his suitcase when his father had walked in, and he'd jumped like a guilty man.

"Going somewhere?" Tala had asked coolly, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the doorframe. Taras had studied his father's face for some kind of expectation, and when finding none, sighed.

"Somewhere is right. Anywhere. I just need to…go…" he gestured hopelessly with his hands. The older man had nodded at that, as if judging it a fair enough response.

"I don't know, dad. How did you…you know…" Taras wrinkled his nose at the cliché but couldn't think of a better way of phrasing it, "How did you…find yourself?"

"Find myself?" Tala had snorted and smirked at that, and Taras had found himself standing up and glaring at him.

"Dad, I'm not in the mood…"

He realised much later, when reliving this particular moment, that he had been the same height as his father that day, almost to the millimetre. If anyone understood what he meant, it would be his dad; mum had said many times that they were just 'wired the same way'.

He remembered the look of reigned in amusement that had passed over his father's face, before he had sat down on the bed next to the suitcase. Taras immediately went to sit beside him, feeling suddenly vulnerable after sharing his innermost thoughts, and leant into the older man's arm.

"This is how we sat in the hospital, all those years back, do you remember?" Taras wrapped his arms around himself and shuddered a little, "Still feels like yesterday."

Taras had felt his father's concerned gaze on him and looked up defiantly. He had seemed to be in the mood for sharing personal revelations that day, and did not want to be mocked for it.

"I first found myself when I was nineteen."

"Nineteen?" Taras had echoed.

"On my way to Russia…I didn't want to go back, but somehow that day everything just…_clicked _in my head." Tala had frowned a little at this point, "Lost it a couple of times in the years after that, but I always seemed to find it again."

_On my way to Russia….everything just clicked…always seemed to find it again…_

Taras came back to reality with an aching of the heart and retreated back to his bed to lie down, not bothering about the duvet, just slumping and covering his eyes with one arm. He drifted into a restless sleep and his dreams were his mother's embrace and his father's smile.

Lucia woke him with a soft shake from soft hands and they spent the day trying to avoid each other, because they both knew that sooner or later they'd have to talk. Sooner came that evening, with two glasses of milk and a slice of chocolate cake that was really far too large to just be eaten by one.

He'd jumped a foot when she switched the kitchen light on, then turned around, chocolate all around his mouth and a fork between his lips. He heard her laugh for the first time in three years, and for a few seconds, something was right between them.

"Peckish?" she teased. Taras looked at his feet, embarrassed that he'd been caught raiding his sister's kitchen like a six year old.

"Can't sleep." He muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Lucia's eyes softened with sympathy, "Neither." She said quietly, and the elephant in the room that they were both ignoring grew to the size of a mountain.

She picked up her own fork and dug it into the thick icing of the cake, taking a small chunk away and placing it in her mouth. They both stood and chewed, occasionally breaking out into small talk to chase away the awkwardness.

After about five minutes, Lucia gave up, putting down her fork, offering him a smile that meant absolutely nothing before excusing herself for bed.

"How did it happen?"

Lucia froze in the doorway, before turning slowly; Taras' eyes were fixed on her, and his unwavering gaze unnerved her. She ran a hand through her deep burgundy hair, meeting his gaze, eyes pleading with him not to make her.

"Please, Taras…"

"You told me at the airport that it was a car accident, but you never said anything else because you started crying. _Please_, Lucia. I have to know."

Lucia stared at him for a few seconds before she sighed and sat down at the small kitchen table, motioning that Taras sit beside her.

"They were going out for the evening…I saw mum earlier in the day…" Lucia's voice trailed off, her eyes glazing over and filling with tears, then she snapped out of her reverie and carried on, "and she said it was a beautiful restaurant, called _Illyria _or something, right out in the middle of the woods. It's almost impossible to get reservations there, but somehow dad had managed to…"

Lucia was silent for a few seconds.

Taras stared at his sister, "And then?"

"The rest of it we can only guess from what the forensics team found. They must have been travelling fairly fast, not over the speed limit, but not slowly-"

"Mum probably made them late; she always takes too long getting ready." Taras interjected, and they both grinned, before realising his slip and once more the feeling akin to being punched in the stomach or missing the last step returned.

"The road was pretty narrow; from the skid marks left they must have met an oncoming car and swerved to avoid them. There was a massive party going on just around the corner, a music festival or something, there was alcohol flowing pretty freely so the police said…no surprise…"

"No surprise?" Taras croaked.

"That there was an accident." Lucia swallowed heavily, "They said that they're fairly sure mum died on impact. The car hit a tree and the windscreen smashed; her side of the car was almost crushed, a huge shard of glass went through her th-th-" she gulped again and sniffed, "Through her thigh, but she was unconscious before that and because of the blood loss she probably just didn't…she didn't…"

Tears were now running down Lucia's face and she brought her hands up to meet them. Taras sat numbly, unable to move or think or feel. His eyes travelled back to his sister as she scrubbed furiously at her cheeks with the heels of her palms, before sniffing and looking up.

"Taras, please, don't…don't make me…" she whimpered.

"I need to know." Taras whispered hoarsely. It was as if he was there, watching it as his sister's words weaved the scene, and when she stopped, the moment was frozen in time. Somehow, if Lucia stopped now, in the middle, it would be as if his parents would be trapped, semi-conscious and bleeding, forever. And then he would never be able to think of anything else.

Lucia swallowed a sob and continued shakily, "A man lived in a house nearby and came out because he heard something. He saw them in the crushed car and assumed – he nearly went straight back to his house to call the police…then…then dad came to…"

"Dad was still…alive?"

Lucia nodded, tears beginning to fall again. She didn't bother to wipe them away.

"The man said…he heard dad say mum's name and try to…to wake her up…and then he started shouting and swearing and crying…"

"_Oh shit, Julia, wake up, wake up, I can't do this without you, wake up baby, please, I need you, Julia wake up, Julia-"_

"_Hey! Hey, mate, are you alright?"_

_Tala looked up, hissing in pain as his neck grated. There was a young man peering through the smashed window, looking anxious and confused._

"_No I'm not fucking alright! Go ring an ambulance! Now!"_

_The man looked alarmed and ran off. Tala let out a groan, one hand going to his chest, the source of the pain – broken rib, maybe two, he deduced. He tried to heave himself up, but the movement sent stabs of agony through his stomach. He cried out, before gritting his teeth and waiting for the pain to die down, but it seemed to be intensifying._

"_Bugger." He grunted between clenched teeth._

_He reached out a hand over to his wife's shoulder again, shaking it as hard as he could, but his strength seemed to be leaking away. Her copper hair, still perfectly coifed, flopped over her eyes as her head slumped forwards, and for the first time he saw the shard of glass that pinned her thigh to the seat and the pool of deep red soaking through her white canvas trousers. He let out a choked sob, spat blood, and coughed violently._

"_Julia, Julia wake up baby, wake up, please, please, Julia…Julia…"_

_Tala hacked and coughed, pulling his hand from his mouth and finding shocking crimson spattered on it. He let out a low groan, screwing his eyes shut and fumbling with his hand to try and find Julia's. His arm was heavy and clumsy, as if it no longer belonged to him, but after a few seconds his bloodstained fingers interlinked with hers. _

_His eyes hurt too much to open. He didn't feel at peace. He didn't suddenly have any planet-shattering revelations. He didn't want to die. And Julia couldn't die, she just couldn't, she couldn't. _

"_I won't die if you don't…"_

_Tala tried to reply but he couldn't find enough breath, and he tried to force his eyes open again but he didn't have enough energy. He squeezed Julia's hand and a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as she squeezed his back._

_He dimly registered the sound of footsteps and a man shouting._

"_Hey, I've called the ambulance – hey, hey, wake up now, the ambulance is just coming, it'll be five minutes, you've gotta hold on, just hold on a bit longer…"_

Lucia succumbed to her sobs, no longer bothering to hold it in, now that she had finished her horrific duty. Taras was still frozen, eyes blinking slowly. Lucia caught the expression on his face and her last scrap of patience dissolved as she reached the end of her emotional tether.

"Dead, Taras!" she screamed at him, "They're dead, and we're never ever going to see them again! They're gone! Forever! Dammit, Taras! What's wrong with you? Why…Why aren't you-"

"Dead." Taras blurted out, "Never going to see them… Oh my- dead. Oh. Dead." Taras' mouth worked on autopilot, spurting out words as he rearranged them in his head.

He looked up from his lap to his sister, "Lucia, they're…they're _dead. _I'm never going to see them again, never, and I missed…"

"Come here," Lucia commanded, holding out an arm. Taras did as he was told, scooting into her embrace, the warm comfort all that was needed to kick-start the tears. Neither of them were sure how long they sat there for, crying together in the cold kitchen, but by the time they were both capable of speaking again, the sun had almost risen.

"It's pretty cold in here, huh?" Taras mumbled into his sister's shoulder. She gave a croaky kind of laugh, pulling away.

"I know, I'm freezing." Lucia rubbed her cold feet, before tiptoeing across the linoleum to turn up the thermostat. Taras watched her, still feeling numb from grief but it was as if a strange weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a weight he'd never realised was there. She ripped a few tissues from a box on the side before handing it to him.

"So, what have you been up to whilst you've been off travelling? I emailed you plenty of times but you never answered." Lucia asked as casually as she could, turning on the kettle and beginning to prepare them both drinks.

Taras shrugged, scratching the back of his neck, "Stuff. I've done…stuff."

Lucia turned around and rolled her eyes at him, "Let's start with an easy one, shall we? Where exactly have you _been_?" She folded her arms and leant back against the counter expectantly.

"…Places…?"

"Oh please, Taras, just answer the question!"

"Russia. I've been in Russia. I've got a flat and a good job there." Taras said matter-of-factly. Lucia shot him an odd look over her shoulder as she poured out the kettle.

"Why Russia?"

"Why not?"

She shrugged, bringing over the two coffees, handing Taras his then sipping hers, sitting down.

"Fair enough," she smirked at him over the rim of her mug but the effect was ruined by her red puffy eyes, "Girlfriend?"

Taras choked on his coffee, and then shot her an accusing glare, "What is it with you girls and your interest in guys' personal lives? That was one of the first questions that mum-" he broke off suddenly and examined his fingers. Lucia chewed on her lip, then reached out and squeezed his hand.

"What's her name?" she asked quietly.

"_Was _would be more accurate; Eva."

Lucia winced and squeezed his hand again, "You broke up?"

"Yeah," Taras sipped from his drink, "S'all water under the bridge now. Wasn't really going anywhere."

There was a small silence where they both drank and watched the sunrise between the blinds of the small kitchen window. Lucia broke it with a heartfelt sigh, turning her gaze on her brother.

"Why did you leave?"

Taras looked down at his hands and shrugged again. "I needed to get away. I wanted to…find myself."

"Find yourself?" Lucia snorted and smirked at him in a way that reminded him uncannily of their father. He quickly looked away. "Isn't that a bit cliché?"

Taras shrugged, playing with his fork idly. "I don't know, I just felt something….lacking. And…" he shifted in his seat, his reasoning suddenly seeming very silly, "…I wanted to go to Russia."

"Russia? Why did you specifically want to go to _Russia_?" she frowned, "What was wrong with finding yourself right here?"

Taras busied himself with blowing the steam off the top of his coffee, reluctant to answer his sister, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Taras…" Lucia employed their mother's patent _look_ until her brother was shifting awkwardly in his seat, and then he blurted out –

"Dad said that was where he found himself. Russia."

"Russia?" Lucia arched an eyebrow sceptically, "The only think I remember dad talking about finding in Russia is a flat with Uncle Bryan and lots of hangovers…"

"That's what he said! He said he was nineteen and he found himself on the way to Russia."

"On the _way_ to Russia?"

"Yeah." Taras blinked at the sudden look of revelation on Lucia's face.

"He was nineteen…on the way to Russia…Oh Taras. You spent three years in Russia because you thought…? Just because he said…?"

"What is it?" Taras frowned, folding his arms, annoyed that Lucia seemed to be belittling his life decisions.

Lucia pressed her fingers to her temples. "Taras, the fact that he was going to Russia was not the important part. It wasn't _in _Russia that he found himself. It was _on the way_."

Taras' frown deepened, "I don't understand what you're getting at…"

"Do you remember… it was something that mum used to say…" She picked up her fork from the side, licked the chocolate icing off it and used it to stir her coffee, before looking thoughtfully at him, "She always said that when it came to her and dad, it was the _seconds_ that counted…"

"I remember," Taras nodded, then smiled weakly, "Didn't dad have to propose to her twice or something?"

"He did," Lucia matched his smile with her own grin, "They were at the airport and a plane went over when he asked her, so she didn't hear."

"Wasn't the whole _down on one knee_ thing a bit of giveaway?"

"No, I think they were in the middle of an argument…"

"How disgustingly romantic." Taras wrinkled his nose, "But what has this got to do with Russia?"

"Mum and dad met for the first time at a tournament. And they met the _second time_…"

"…Oh." Said Taras. And that was all.

The world was laughing at him. He'd been waiting for this day for over three years, waiting for some kind of amazing revelation, something life changing that would answer every question he'd ever had about his identity and self-worth.

And he'd got _that_; his father had found himself at nineteen because that was when he'd fallen in love with mum. What sort of message was that? Fall in love and you'll suddenly get where you're going and what you need to do to be you? No, that was rubbish, and he knew it, and he wasn't in love anyway so fat lot of help that was!

He'd waited and searched for so long, and he'd got…_that_.

It wasn't fair.

It was ridiculous, it was unfair, it was un_just_, it was-

Taras cried out in exasperation, scrunched up the tissues in his hand and threw them at the wall, Lucia ducking in alarm.

He watched the light paper fall to the floor, and stared at it for a few moments.

The moments stretched out into eternity as the tissues separated and slowly floated to the ground, and Taras realised he was breathing heavily but the blood rushing in his ears had gone, leaving a kind of...relief.

Okay, so he was disappointed. Like, _really_ disappointed. But after the surge of anger came a curious calm; he'd spent years chasing after his dad's way of dealing with life, and then he'd found out that it was his mum. Fair enough.

Perhaps now, his brain suggested cautiously, as if dipping a toe in the water, we can find our _own_ way of dealing with it? Starting with, perhaps, your sister, who you haven't so much as spoken to in three years…?

Taras looked up to see Lucia watching him, concern written over her features.

"I'm sorry, Lucia."

Her face softened. She touched his shoulder, "Hey, its okay. You...you did what you thought you had to, right?" She grinned, "Not your fault you were so dense you didn't think to ask dad to elaborate, huh? Idiot."

"Yeah, yeah." He shook his head, then rubbed his eyes, standing up, "I'm...I'm going to go back to bed now." He yawned, "Jetlag is catching up with me."

"Alright. Just...Taras?"

Lucia caught his hand. He squeezed it. "Yeah?"

"Promise you won't just run off again?"

He shook his head, "I'm not going back to Russia, Lucia." he smiled, "Maybe I'll try out at the BBA centre here, see if I can't get back into 'blading. Training kids could be fun."

"Mmm, I bet. Lots of bratty competitive six year olds. _Loads_ of fun." she teased, tongue between her teeth.

"And in the morning-"

"It is the morning."

"_Later_ in the morning," he continued, unperturbed, "I am going to make pancakes."

"Pancakes."

"Yes, pancakes. And they will be _victory_ pancakes, because I will not get them stuck to the ceiling this time."

Lucia rolled her eyes at her brother and downed the last of her coffee, "Keep dreaming, Taras."

"I intend to." Taras replied, grinning.

And as he made his way back to his bedroom, his heart clenching at every photograph, every piece of evidence that showed the life of his parents in the house, he caught sight of the sun rising out of the window, as they day dawned on his second day at home.


End file.
